


That’s Captain Watson To You

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal, Dom/sub, Johncroft, M/M, Military Uniforms, Oral, Slash, Spanking, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft has a new obsession, and that obsession comes dressed in a lovely army uniform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That’s Captain Watson To You

Well, well, well, his brother had gone and gotten himself a new toy. And a _soldier_ to boot. Oh, the prospect of meeting him had been too entertaining to pass up.

The initial abduction of Doctor John H. Watson from the crowded London streets had originally been to assess whether the man was any sort of danger at all to Sherlock. Despite the usual arguments, misgivings and general objections, Mycroft really did have his brother’s best interests at heart. 

However, much to his surprise, Doctor Watson had passed muster. He was not as shallow or conniving as the various other individuals Sherlock thought to call ‘friends’; the drug dealers only after him to buy more product, the homeless looking for more money or the university associates who wanted nothing more than a target to laugh at.

No John was, well stupid (no that was being uncharitable…ordinary, that was the word Mycroft was looking for), but evidently loyal and brave.

Did he mention absolutely fucking _gorgeous?_ Oh dear lord yes he was. The figure that limped defiantly up to him and stared him straight in the eye was certainly attractive. Short yes, but Mycroft like to think of it as _compact._ Blonde, oh God, he was blonde. Why did he have to be blond?! He could only imagine what kind of body that army training had shaped under those loose fitting jeans and soft woollen jumpers. And he did imagine. Quite frequently. Beautiful blue eyes and the fucking _sassiest_ little mouth…Mycroft could think of all manner of depraved uses for that mouth. Men and women were left shaking or in tears at some of his ‘interrogations’, but the good Doctor stood there and look as if he was barely able to contain his desire to punch him in the face. Mycroft would have loved him to try. 

Unmindful to most things sexual, his brother didn’t usually pick new pets so…edible. Mycroft would have applauded him if Sherlock even had the faintest clue of what a prize he had snagged himself.

Yes, the initial abduction assessed the suitability for continuing association with Sherlock, however all the other meetings were simply for the older Holmes personal entertainment. Of course the latest case folder could be couriered over…but where was the fun of that when he could have the musky and slightly spicy fragrance of John’s aftershave lingering in the black of his Jaguar and the pleasure of his snarky wit. If that bloody man didn’t stop the utterly distracting habit of licking and biting his lips then Mycroft was going to have to abduct him for good and tie him up all safe and secure at his home where no one else could get to him. It was _obscene_ , really it was.

Anthea's original research of him was beyond par. In amongst the files, newspaper clippings and personnel record were one or two delightful photographs of _Captain_ John H Watson from his army career. One intensely wonderful specimen had him in full dress uniform for his passing out parade. And that particularly delicious piece of masturbatory material was currently tucked in Mycroft’s desk drawer. A number of unmentionable stains resulted in it being unfit to slide back into the manila folder that Anthea has so carefully cultivated.

Sherlock resented his frequent visits, certainly. As brothers their relationship was strained and quite unique. Mostly it was better to keep well out each other’s way until the need. That need was usually Sherlock’s habit for getting himself into trouble with the authorities and it required more and more time to be spent together. But the lovely trips to Baker Street allowed him to cast supercilious glances under his eyelashes at John. Just because Sherlock had no desire for physical relationships didn’t mean that Mycroft wouldn’t happily drape that fine piece of army arse all over every piece of furniture in the room. He never thought he would say it, but his brother was an idiot, pure and simple. 

In a way Mycroft was glad there was no ‘happy announcement’ he so frequently teased them about. It may have killed him to think of his brother getting to be close to the man when he could not. It certainly allowed his fantasies to reign unchecked. At least Sherlock hadn’t noticed his little obsession. _Yet._

Even if Sherlock wasn’t currently taking horrible advantage of the doctor, Mycroft hadn’t exactly taken advantage of the situation either right enough. He was more than happy to continue his little fantasy from afar. The good ones were always straight, he mused, as the doctor had never hinted at any sort of sexuality that didn’t involve women. Much to his disappointment, there had been a large number of girlfriends; each one Mycroft memorised and daydreamed of often elaborate ways to remove them. Luckily, he didn’t have to break any laws and the vapid little bitches evaporated all on their own.

 

 

It was a surprise one Friday afternoon when he received an unexpected phone call. Unusually, it was John. Any excuse to talk to the man was a small cheer to his day but typically the only reasons he called the Government official’s personal mobile was a problem with Sherlock. That problem was more often than not drugs, since Mycroft was usually the first one to know when his brother was arrested for various misdemeanours. No, John calling him was usually not something he wanted to be dealing with.

He supposed the sooner he answered the sooner he could resolve the problem.

‘John. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘I swear you and your bloody brother are psychic, how did you even know it was me?’

Mycroft fought not to roll his eyes. Was he shallow in not caring if the intellect was up to scratch when the body was so delicious? ‘Simple. Caller I.D.’

‘Oh, right. Silly me. Um, well, anyway can you come over to Baker Street?’

‘What fresh hell has my brother reaped on the London populous?’

‘Sherlock hasn’t done anything. It would be better if you were here and I could…explain.’

‘Doctor. You are being evasive.’ It made Mycroft a little nervous. He hated surprises, especially the disastrous kind that Sherlock was forever happily dropping in his lap.

‘Has my brother _died?’_ He said, with only half an air of sarcasm.

‘I told you he is fine. Look are you coming or not?’

My, pushy little fellow, Mycroft quite liked it. Suppressing a grin at the man’s impetuous tone he agreed to come right over.

 

 

The flat was eerily quiet when he arrived. Mrs Hudson was evidently out and after knocking and waiting a few moments Mycroft eventually had no choice but to let himself in and upstairs. 

He couldn’t hear movement. The flat seemed quite deserted. Oh dear, just what had Sherlock done now?

Strolling into the sitting room, umbrella swinging merrily, he was about to place himself in the armchair beside the fire and await the inevitable when he suddenly heard the heavy footfalls of John on the stairs. The only room upstairs, he knew, was the second bedroom so the doctor must have been coming from his own room. 

Turning to the sitting room door to welcome the new arrival his greeting died on his lips the instant his brother's flatmate burst into the room. There had to be a good reason the man was currently dressed straight out of one of Mycroft’s wet dreams but his brain seemed to have taken leave of him at the moment. 

Aware his mouth was likely agape he cleared his throat sharply but was terribly afraid it may have come out as a whimper.

John glanced up as he entered the room, blue eyes sparkling and a cheeky grin in place as he smiled at Mycroft standing, for once, speechless beside the fireplace.

‘You are here then. Took you long enough.’ He muttered as he tugged at his tailored jacket and straightened his cuffs.

Mycroft attempted to shake some form of sanity back into his brain. For goodness sake you old fool! It is only a man in a uniform. Compose yourself! Unfortunately his heart was fluttering quite madly, so much so that he was convinced John could probably hear it half way across the room. And his groin was doing something else altogether…

‘You called…’ Well done Mycroft. He gave himself a small internal pat on the back. Words stringed together in the right order and sounding almost normal. Just focus on something else. Don’t focus on the polished boots, the snug tailoring of the trousers, the jacket, oh _God_ he is wearing a tie…

‘My apologies, your appearance threw me. Are you dressed for an occasion?’

John glanced down at his own appearance as if surprised he found himself in his dress military uniform. Mycroft narrowed his eyes. Nice try doctor, I’m not buying it. You know exactly how fucking good you look in that damned outfit.

‘Well, now that the leg problem is all sorted I will be meeting a few old army buddies. We will be jumping on a train at Kings cross and heading to the Beachley Barracks. Some of the younger retired and pensioned off old soldiers like me are going to meet up for a few drinks, probably get sloshed. Going to get out the old gear and run around for a bit, get muddy, see if we can still triumph over the assault course in a decent time. War games type thing, a lad’s weekend.’

John Watson, sweaty, dirty and dishevelled; now _there_ was a thought to keep him up this weekend. Mycroft suddenly found an overwhelming desire to see if there was surveillance anywhere near the Beachley base. He could probably come up with some excuse to gain access to their systems…probably.

‘Well, doesn’t that sound… _fun?’_ He tried to put as must distain into one sentence as possible however the doctor didn’t look convinced and merely smiled at him and continued.  
‘Sherlock isn’t here. Away on some case. Belarus I think, didn’t think it was worth his time but went anyway. Didn’t need me to go with him. He should be back in a few days.

Now he was puzzled. His brother wasn’t here? Then why did John need him to come over right now? He spread his arms in a please continue gesture, ‘then why am I here?’

The ex-soldier’s smile was utterly mischievous; Mycroft’s heart rate increased just a little. He wanted to run his tongue along those kissable lips.

Focus!

‘I wanted a chat with you.’

A knot was beginning to build in the bottom of his stomach as his immense brain ran into overdrive thinking of all the possibilities. The lump hardened as John’s voice became stern and dropped quite a few octaves.

‘You have a thing for me Mycroft.’ It was a statement, not a question and the older Holmes mentally gulped. He attempted to school his face into a not guilty expression but he was having a hard time of it, especially with the physical appearance of the man before him. _Shit._

‘Whatever gave you that impression?’ Mycroft suddenly sound the back of his gloved hands incredibly interesting.

‘You and Sherlock think I am completely stupid. You think I am oblivious?’ 

‘Well your mental faculty is highly questionable…’ He tried to make a joke of it, hiding behind his usual veneer of sarcasm but Mycroft had a sneaking suspicion he was found out. Bloody hell, how could he get himself out of this with a little dignity?

‘You practically fucking sniff me every time I am in your sodding car. I see your little looks when you think Sherlock or I aren’t watching you, you are practically eye fucking me on every occasion. I know that you don’t have to personally deliver the cases to Sherlock but you like to do it when I’m here.’

_Fuck._ The word played over and over in his mind like a mantra. Mycroft had hoped he hadn’t been that obvious. So much for the Iceman. He felt sick to his stomach and was wondering if he could simply flee the flat and never look back. He was pretty sure he hadn’t blushed so much since Mary Potts had tried to kiss him in front of everyone in the first year of high school.

He had been staring in silence, lost for words, wondering how he could possibly salvage the situation, but apparently the doctor had other thoughts. His smooth voice rang out snapping Mycroft out of his internal panic. It was a voice of authority. The clear ringing bark of a soldier giving out orders.

‘You like the uniform?’ Spreading his arms wide and showing off the dress uniform in the most delightful manner. 

Mycroft nodded, well what was the point in hiding? And he did look fucking spectacular in it, even better in person than the photograph, if that were possible. He wondered what he would look like out of it…

John’s increasing grin was almost sexually malicious and the tone of his voice shivered down Mycroft’s spine and tightened things low in his groin. Where was this coming from? Why had the doctor suddenly turned into the authority figure of Mycroft’s dirty imagination?

‘I thought you might. Anthea kind of told on you’

‘What?!’ Now that really was a shock. Bloody hell, even Anthea had noticed him acting like a fucking love struck teenager. His day could not get any worse.

‘That traitorous little bitch, I will get her back for that.’

‘Well, that is between you and her, but I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing. We are going to play a little game Mycroft, one that you are going to enjoy. Thoroughly.’

The lead weight in his stomach plummeted so fast he thought he would fall straight through the Baker Street floor. Oh. Oh now hold on just a minute. Was he suggesting…

‘On your knees!’ John barked it out like an order, standing to attention, heels together and back straight, the very epitome of a Captain of her Majesty’s armed forces. Mycroft’s heart fluttered and his traitorous cock was twitching at the mere thought of what was being suggested. However he tried to restrain his internal jump for joy, raising one eyebrow he sneered at the other man. 

‘Now why would I do that?’

Jaw tensing, Mycroft watched those lovely blue eyes harden like ice. It was quite a transformation, and remarkably frightening. The amiable bundle of fluffy jumpers and quite reflection had disappeared. John the soldier, the Captain, the man, expected orders to be followed right damned now. 

This was the game he wanted to play. One that the older Holmes had many sleepless nights fantasising about. The thought of submitting to him, following his orders, letting _Captain_ John H Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers do whatever he wanted to him had butterfly’s fluttering excitedly in his stomach and his cock twitching in his trousers. But still. He wouldn’t want to make it too easy. Mycroft was not a man that submitted to just anyone.

‘I ask again and you are not going to like the consequences. On. Your. Knees.’

Mycroft merely smirked, probably his first mistake. Nope, his second actually, he realised too late. The first had been not immediately doing what he was told and dropping to his knees and begging the man to have him in any way possible the minute he walked into the sitting room dressed like that.

Without any preamble John turned on his heels and marched around him. The government official barely had a chance to glance over his shoulder to see where the doctor went to when he suddenly felt an overwhelming pressure at the back of his knee. His leg buckled under him and his knees connected sharply with the hard wooden Baker Street floor. 

Wincing at the sound and the shock, Mycroft suddenly grasped just how more dominant to him that John could possibly be. Despite being several good inches shorter the soldier had the strength and training to probably overpower him if he wanted to. His pulse quickened. The game had just stepped up a few notches and become very interesting indeed. As he said, Mycroft didn’t submit to just anyone. Finding a good dominant partner whether that be male or female was difficult for him, one that was believable and he could thoroughly enjoy letting go to.

Mycroft caught the small satisfied smile across John’s features as he came back to face him. Licking his lips in delicious anticipation, he knew his heart rate was up and that the other man probably already saw his dilated pupils and the utter need written all over his face. There was no getting away from it; Mycroft was extremely turned on by this show of dominance and he wanted more.

Only inches from him, the older Holmes inhaled deeply the delicious smell of polish and waxing crème that John had shined his boots and belt buckle with. He could see the suit up close and it was beautifully tailored, all heavy fabric and clean angles and _utterly_ form fitting…

Quick as lightening a hand shot out, fingers tangling painfully in short auburn hair. Mycroft couldn’t stop the small yelp that left his lips as the soldier pulled his head backwards at an almost painful angle. Acutely was aware that his long pale neck was exposed, a small thrill of fear ran down his body but as his hair was twisted painfully Mycroft was left meeting the gaze of the man above him. Need and want and desire were written across the doctors features too, he could see it and allowed a small internal whoop of joy that just maybe John liked him too.

He was unprepared but thoroughly satisfied with the lip crushing kiss the doctor suddenly bestowed on him. It was demanding and insistent and glorious, as fingers balled against his scalp preventing movement while that gorgeous mouth worked on him. 

John took his own pleasure from him and Mycroft was entirely happy with that. Tongue demanding entrance to his mouth, he let himself get lost in the moment. Small muffled moans of pleasure escaped as John caressed every inch of him, tongue sweeping the roof of his mouth. He was forced to open his mouth wider in accommodation or choke on the invading appendage.

Pulling away with a sharp bite to his bottom lip left the government official slightly unfocused and panting. Eyelids fluttering, he opened them to find the doctor bending over his kneeling position as the man placed small butterfly kisses along his lips, cheeks, and forehead.

‘Oh, if we had the time today Mycroft…’

He swallowed, delighting in the sensation as John ran the pad of his thumb across his freshly kiss-abused lips. His voice was like honey as he murmured in his ear and Mycroft only wanted more. More of him, more kisses, more touch, more everything, however he would chose to give it. 

‘Next time. I would like to tie you up, maybe even restrain you with your own clothing. A suitable gag for that smart little mouth of yours. Oh how I want to see your lips pursed around a lovely blood red gag ball, maybe a toy- a nice plug keeping that arse ready for me. I would make you _beg_ for it.’

He couldn’t have been more turned on if he tried. Every word out the soldier’s mouth was something Mycroft had often fantasised about. Multiple times. He must have given himself away, shown his want, made some sort of small appreciative sound as John’s smile suddenly widened.

‘You know what Mycroft? I observe things too you know. I think you would be a happily submissive little bitch would you?’ 

Mycroft nodded as the doctors hand left his hair but instead began caressing his cheek. He leaned into the caress, rubbing himself against the hand like a cat being stroked.

‘You are a big powerful man Mycroft. You like telling people what to do, and you like having all the answers but sometimes. Sometimes I believe you don’t want to be in charge. You want someone else to take that over, someone else to take that responsibility for just a little while. You and Sherlock are both…damaged in some way. Both of you seem so eager be used and abused. You don’t think you are worth anything, maybe you don’t think you deserve to get what you want. You both hide behind your arrogance and your wit…’

A tear rolled down his cheek that he couldn’t stop as John continued gentle kisses over his face. No. No it wasn’t him. John couldn’t have that much insight already. He just needed…Mycroft didn’t know what he needed. Someone to want him? Just as he was. Someone to care for him instead of it always being the other way around? A lover? A master? Doctor Watson wasn’t the first person to claim that the Holmes brothers were not normal. Damaged in some sort of way, but he didn’t know how to improve interactions with others, they had never been shown…

John’s soft wet lips grazed his earlobe sending involuntary goosebumps across every inch of his flesh. ‘You can let go with me. You don’t need to be responsible all the time Mycroft love.’

Yes. Yes he wanted to let go with John. He would like that. Like that very much. 

The older Holmes didn’t get a chance to voice his reply as lips sought his again, fierce and bruising. Fingers tightened in his hair, the soft scraped of nails against his scalp were delicious torture and he could feel the doctor’s caress all the way down to his toes.

‘We will start the proper training later; I do not have time now as I need to leave... Maybe I should take you with me as my pet. We could make a mascot out of you. Get you all dishevelled, all dirty and messy. Force that suit off you, tie you up face down and let a group of rough sweaty army men fuck you senseless.’

The whimper out his mouth was not normal. Mycroft knew it wasn’t normal, he shouldn’t have found things like that exciting. Degraded and paraded, strangers abusing him for their own pleasure…

‘Oh like that thought do you? You little slut. As much as I would like to see you being a good little bottom and servicing quite a few cocks in the one go I am keeping you to myself for now. Even if I would like to see that pale freckled body well decorated in cum.’

John’s voice was solid but almost gentle and even. ‘So. Let’s begin. When I say kneel you do it. You won’t disobey my orders again will you?’

Mycroft hadn’t realised his eyes had slipped closed, enjoying the sensation of the other man running strong fingers through his hair. He was stroking him like a goddamn pet, rubbing just behind his ears, his scalp, the back of his neck, and oh dear lord he was loving it.

‘No.’ It was almost a whisper though barely parted lips unable to contain the desire and lust running through his body.

Without warning the hand was removed and gentle caressing ceased. The soldier’s voice rang out like steel.

‘That’s no _Captain!’_

Mycroft’s eyes shot open, oh yes, he thought. Yes he wanted to play this game so badly. Captain it was. He liked the uniform, fantasised over the man in it. Anthea had to have told and now here he was, dressed up and ready to give him exactly what he wanted, what he _needed._

‘Of course, Captain.’ He cast his gaze downward to the floor after a brief glimpse into the doctor’s eyes to make sure he was happy with his response. With no further comment he chanced a glance back upwards after several silent moments. John turned and marched to the sofa a few feet away, positioning himself in it with impeccable posture, both highly polished booted feet firmly on the floor.

‘Take off your outer coat and suit jacket and come here.’

Mycroft licked his lips, hesitating, wondering what was coming next. Did he really want to do this here? In the middle of the sitting room in Baker Street? It may have been more prudent to retire to a bedroom. However Mycroft’s hesitation was noted, he clearly did not carry out orders fast enough to his masters liking.

‘If I have to get up and come get you then you will be sorry.’

He remembered the lesson in kneeling. Mycroft was curious as to what other tricks the Captain had up his sleeve to make him submit. He was tempted to push it, just for fun but was more than eager to get to the end of this little game judging by the tenting of his suit trousers. He made to stand however the military-clear voice rang out from the other side of the room.

‘No, do it where you are. Don’t stand. I want you to come to me on your knees like a good little submissive pet.’

‘Yes Captain.’ 

It was all he could say, really.

Mycroft quickly shed his thick outer woollen coat and expensive suit jacket. He didn’t think John would be patient anymore, so simply cast the items behind him on the floor instead of taking time to fold them. Sliding down onto his hands he crawled, as gracefully as he could manage, over to the sofa. As the top of the doctors shiny army boots came into view he sat back on his heels awaiting further instruction.  
A quick glance at his face showed that John was pleased with him and Mycroft’s chest swelled in pride. Normally he wasn’t so eager to please, so eager to conform, but with him, with John… yes he would do anything this man demanded.

Quickly he placed his gaze back down to the floor as the other man leant forwards and began snapping open the buttons of his waist coat. Mycroft basked in the feel of warm palms running across his chest and shoulders as the garment was slid off. He could feel the soldiers touch like fire, even through his clothing and it was all he could to sit still and continue breathing.

His silk tie was tugged gently out and Mycroft watched it run delicately through the other man’s fingers for a few moments before he finally unloosened it. He was enjoying it, Mycroft realised. John was enjoying talking his clothes off him if the twinkle in his eye and small satisfied quirk of his lip was anything to go by.

‘Stand up.’ 

It was a command, not a request. Hastily getting to his feet, imagining that he looked extremely ungraceful in doing so, Mycroft stood before the soldier, now half dressed. Sitting on the sofa, John was now at perfect height with his groin and the older Holmes has to suppress a loud groan of frustration. He wanted nothing more than to sink his painfully hard cock in between those beautiful lips. But he didn’t think he was going to be that lucky. Not yet anyway.

‘Remove your belt.’

Doing as he was told eagerly, knowing that less clothes meant he may be soon getting an untold amount of sexual gratification the belt came loose in an ungraceful tug, his hands shaking slightly in over excitement. The anticipation of stripping for the other man was building low in Mycroft’s groin and he was already painfully straining against his own trousers. The slightly movement of fabric back and forth across the tip of his cock was driving him to distraction. He had to have his release soon or he was going to explode. 

The belt fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and Mycroft nearly stumbled as his hand eagerly moved to the fly of his trousers to continue with the rest of his clothing. However John reached out like lightening, swatting it away.

‘Ah, ah. I said belt only now didn’t I?’

Oh, he made a mistake, ‘Yes Captain.’ Mycroft mumbled in what he hoped was his most sincere apologetic manner.

‘So eager to get your clothes off for me. My you are quite the little slut aren’t you?’

‘Yes Captain.’ He could feel his breathing rising and every muscle in his body quivering all on its own. God yes, the anticipation was going to kill him unless the doctor put him out his misery.

Agonisingly slowly, the soldier set to the task of removing his lower clothing. That little bastard was enjoying torturing him; there is no way anyone could pull a fly down that slowly. Thick fingers lingered at his waist and Mycroft allowed the luxury of revelling in John’s touch as he swept the waistband of his trousers, eventually unsnapping the button and braces holding them up. The heavy woollen fabric slid effortlessly to pool around his ankles and the government official couldn’t help but shiver as cooler air blew across his now exposed legs.

Biting his lip firmly and closing his eyes, he couldn’t watch. The utterly breath-taking sight of the good doctor, blond head only inches away from his groin, the warm breath blowing through the thin fabric of his boxers, hands caressing his hips…it was all too much. 

Mycroft yelped, he couldn’t help the undignified noise when John’s hands moved to tug his underwear downwards and the back of his knuckles brushed his cock through the fabric. It was all he could do to keep upright, treacherous kneels threatening to fail if that happened again. Mycroft opened his eyes to find the wickedest grin playing across the soldier’s features. The git did that on purpose! But still, he breathed deeply through his nose and laced his fingers behind his back, digging well-manicured fingernails into the flesh of his palm to try and gain some semblance of control.

A second ‘accidental’ brush had his hips wiggling and his breath coming in short gasps. He couldn’t do it. He was going to need to beg. And he never begged. But his straining cock was standing firmly to attention better than any army soldier, just peaking up from under the tails of his white shirt and John’s beautifully sassy pink and wet lips were only inches from the tip as his hands gentle roamed his thighs…Mycroft wondered if he would indulge him if he begged oh so prettily.

However it was clear the doctor had other plans. Sitting straight-backed in the chair he nodded, indicating the now exposed government official downwards, ‘I want you across my lap.’

What? Mycroft’s lust induced brain was having trouble formulating where this was going but Johns stern voice cut through any hesitation. He practically hissed through clenched teeth, ‘Brace yourself across my lap and stick that beautiful little arse in the air. If the next words out your lips are not “Yes, Captain” then you will be leaving and I may or may not allow you the luxury of putting your clothes back on before I throw you out.’

_Fuck._ The vehemence in his attitude shouldn’t be turning him on more but it was. Captain Watson was going to be a very hard task master indeed and Mycroft was dizzy at the prospect of other scenarios he may find himself in with this new plaything. Not that John was the plaything. No, it was clear that Mycroft was, and he wouldn’t have wished it any other way. 

Oh what the hell…Mycroft did the only thing he could do; there was no way that he was walking away from this. He humbly murmured ‘yes Captain’ before complying and draping himself across the other man’s lap, one arm resting on the floor the other wrapped around a clothed leg.

Tension was singing down his body as Mycroft mentally prepared for what was to come next but his erection was rubbing against the crisp wool trouser thigh of the doctor and it was driving him to distraction. He experimentally flexed his hips, trying not to appear as if he was squirming on the doctor’s lap but every slight movement provided just a little friction. Maybe he could come like this. Just to take the edge off…

Unprepared for the resoundingly painful smack to his backside Mycroft cried out as the flat of Johns palm connected sharply with his right cheek. He turned incredulous eyes to the man, who only raised a challenging eyebrow in response. He had the _gall_ to spank him. Mycroft Holmes, practically the British fucking government, friend to the highest politicians, ambassadors even the fucking Queen herself and this army doctor had the cheek to lay him across his lap and actually spank him like a bratty child.

‘Ah, ah ah. You don’t get to come yet my pet. You haven’t had your lesson. I know exactly what you are doing. No moving on my lap. You don’t get to cum until I say so and if you leak all over this uniform then you will be cleaning it up. With your tongue.’

His cock twitched in response to the doctor’s threat. Well that didn’t sound so bad. Mycroft decided that he may actually enjoy it and he really did need to cum soon otherwise he may pass out from the frustration. But the hard look in John’s eyes told him not to push it and he attempted to cease his movements.

A cool soft palm gently rested across his cheeks and Mycroft really tried hard not to move at the contact as John gently caressed the silky smooth skin, open palms ghosting over bare flesh. The massage started down at his thighs before sweeping across his arse and up his spine. Every nerve was tingling and the pressure in his groin was unbearable, cock begging for release. Just when his muscles had relaxed from the soothing stroking, the next smack befell him. Mycroft’s body bucked as he moaned, unable to stop crying aloud. There was nothing he could do to stop it, unprepared for the discipline. The pain tearing through the sensitive flesh of his backside took his breath away. 

‘I warned you whore. Not a sound.’ Oh god, the doctor’s voice was velvet evil and Mycroft wasn’t sure he would survive more of this. He could only bite his lip and try to comply as another loud thwack had him gasping. Eyes squeezing shut at the impact numerous more firm smacks reigned down across his backside.

The older Holmes could only imagine what kind of state he was in, backside in the air, gasping and writhing across a uniformed man’s lap in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His pale freckled skin did mark and bruise so easily and his arse was likely red raw. He could feel the heat radiating off the abused flesh already. But still….still it felt so good. Each smack jarred his body, stomach digging painfully into John’s knees but his cock was being gradually rubbed back and forth across his lap sending him towards orgasm in a mixture of need and want.

It was good. So incredibly good to hear the small appreciative noises from low in John's throat as he caressed and smacked and rubbed and teased. He was enjoying it, he was enjoying him and that is all Mycroft really wanted,

When the initial onslaught finally ended, Mycroft’s backside was buzzing and tingling. He could hear John’s laboured breath behind him. If there was any doubt as to just how much the doctor was enjoying himself then the evidence was firmly lodged against Mycroft’s stomach.

_‘Beautiful.’_ He whispered, almost in reverence as his warm fingers trailed small circles across Mycroft’s pink tinged skin admiring his handiwork.

’You are such a good boy, love.’ 

Mycroft heart soared. Such an endearment from him! Oh he wanted to be his good boy, his pet. So very much so.

Mycroft couldn’t help but squirm as a palm ran across his sore spanked backside, offering gentle soothing caresses. He had to bite back a moan when the hand trailed further between his legs, across his tight pucker hole, lingering for a moment, tickling ever so slightly, a delicate brush of finger tips along his shaft, a firm squeeze. John’s hand eventually brushed the soft loose skin around his balls and Mycroft’s cry was inevitably audible. 

Oh dear, he mustn’t make a noise, Captain demanded no noises. Biting his lip was too late and his punishment was a firm smack to his already sensitive arse cheek, pushing him further into the lap below him. 

The soldier continued his delicious torture, a gentle caress, a teasing rub followed by a sharp whack. Endlessly cycling the abuse and gratification, but never enough just to tip him over the edge. Once or twice he was close, so close to cumming across that wonderful uniform but something the soldier did brought him back, denying his prize. 

Mind reeling, Mycroft was having trouble telling what day of the week it was, eager for more delicious pleasure/pain. His whole body was singing with tension, wound up tight from the spanking but also the need and strain in his cock. He needed to cum soon or John might was well just kill him now.

As a particularly violent smack landed, jarring his whole body, John’s voice purred menacingly in his ear.

‘I want an apology.’

‘An apology for what?’

The replying whack across his backside took his breath away and Mycroft hung his head over the soldiers lap, defeated.

‘I’m sure you didn’t mean that to sound as insolent as it did. And you forgot the Captain in there.’

He was back to fondling and Mycroft couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate enough to try and form the sentences that his master demanded. He needed a release. The calloused pad of the doctor’s thumb ran across the head of his cock and that almost did it, but after gathering a few drops of cum it disappeared. A thumb brushed across his lips and Mycroft’s tongue darted out, tasting himself before he sucked the offending digit into his mouth. He nearly bit the thumb as another spank collided.

‘You are going to apologise for lying to me, and thinking you can hide your desires from me. We could have been doing this for a while if you had been honest.’

Mycroft let that sink in as John’s fingers slid from between his lips. He could have been having so much fun if he had opened up a little.

‘Now. Are. You. Sorry.’

Each word punctuated by a vicious open palmed smack just below his buttocks. Mycroft chocked out a sob. That hurt. A lot. He couldn’t take anymore. He wanted him, he needed something more.

‘Yes. Yes Captain, I apologies. Deeply. Forgive me.’

Mycroft didn’t expect to get away so lightly, his body tensing and awaiting the next blow but he found himself turned over, John’s lips meeting his, kissing his forehead, the tears from his cheeks, the bridge of his nose....

‘Shhhh. There, there. You have had enough now haven’t you pet? Time to move on.’

Placing a final probing kiss on the lips, John caressed Mycroft’s cheek and eased him off his lap back onto the floor. Every movement sent painful tingling across the older Holmes arse and down his legs and he had a suspicion that he would have a reminder of this ‘lesson’ for a few days to come. Each time he sat down in his office or in a meeting the small pain would provide a thrill of remembrance of the exciting afternoon he spent with his army doctor.

Back on his knees the government official’s suit trousers and boxers were still hooked around his ankles. As his crisp white shirt slid back into place, the cool fabric offered relief to his warm stinging backside. John stood from his position of the couch, groin at eye level. There were unfortunately a few small wet marks across his neatly tailored uniform and Mycroft had a suspicion he would be paying for that later.

The Captain slowly and sensuously drew down his fly. Mycroft could only watch in fascination every small movement knowing what was coming and eager for it. He never thought…never though he would be _allowed;_ that he could have what he wanted, have _him._

Sliding a hand into the dark green trousers the significant bulge there was soon released and fisted in John’s own hand. Mycroft licked his lips, he was perfect. Pink and long and thick and more beautiful that he could have imagined. A small sound of longing filled the room and he had a sneaking suspicion it was involuntary him.

‘I take it a good little cock slut like you doesn’t need to be told what to do?’

The soldier goaded him, a small smile playing across his features as he pumped his cock a few times, drawing the foreskin back and forth, teasing. Mycroft could only assume that the other man could see the absolute desire and want on his own features. He was so close that the slightest lick of his lips would probably caress the hard cock in front of him. Every breath he took brushed the small hairs at the base of Johns cock and all Mycroft’s focus was on the beautifully solid appendage in front of him.

Just as Mycroft opened his mouth to welcome him in there was a faint murmur of, ‘please me and I might just allow you to cum.’

Mycroft could hear breath hitch as he slid his lips snuggly around the head, engulfing John in the warm, soft wetness of his mouth. Under him the soldier’s hips bucked, trying to impale himself further into the source of his pleasure. Chancing a quick glance up the line of his body Mycroft saw his Captain close his eyes briefly and throw his head back, lost in the delicious sensations of the mouth around him.  
A hand was placed firmly at the back of his head, encouraging, guiding, as Mycroft worked his way along the shaft. He tasted wonderful, the silky smooth texture of skin under him better than anything he had fantasised. Mycroft never wanted this to end; he would happily spend hours on his knees pleasuring this man, savouring in the pure animalistic growls and soft contrasting whimpers he was rewarded with for his efforts.

The joy that Captain Watson was talking in him almost was enough to push him over the edge. Mycroft loved the man’s fight for control, biting his lip and clearing his throat loudly, trying to gather some semblance of self-control. He was in charge here, he was the dominant one but one long swiping lick of Mycroft’s tongue along the underside of his cock nearly buckled his knees.

John’s voice was a little hoarse but still infused with commanding authority as his hips pushed himself further into Mycroft eager mouth. ‘That’s right, you get every inch. If I were you I would make sure that you wrap that lovely little mouth all around my cock. Get it nice and wet. I’m going to fuck you and this is the only lubricant you are getting.’

Mycroft swallowed around the thick cock currently in his mouth, eyes wide. His own painfully erect cock twitched under him. Oh god yes. Yes he wanted, needed to be fucked so badly. He could think of nothing better than being dominated by John, controlled and forced to submit. A really rough fuck…

Sliding his lips as far as he could to the base until his nose was almost touching the doctor’s stomach, Mycroft made sure to thoroughly coat him with saliva. Licking and lapping and wetting it until drool was running down his own chin in preparation for what was to come.

After a few more moments a resounding _‘Enough!’_ echoed through the room. The one word along with a painful tug to his hair as John dragged his protesting mouth of the delicious appendage so that his neck was stretched backwards. Mycroft could see the struggle on the other man’s face with his breathing heavy and chest rising and falling rapidly. John had nearly ended in Mycroft’s mouth and losing control was not in the game for him.

‘Enough for now my pet. Time to finish this off the way I want. And you want it too don’t you?’

He could only nod ever so slightly, the soldiers grip still painful in his hair and his wet cock inches from his lips.

‘Say it Mycroft. Beg me to fuck you like the little slut you are.’

Swallowing, it took three attempts to form the words and utter control not to have them spill from his mouth in a jumble of nonsense. Anticipation and excitement threatening to bring tears to his eyes with the frustration that he couldn’t express exactly what he wanted, what he _needed_ at this point.

Saying ‘please fuck me’ didn’t quite convey the level of desire running through him. He wanted John to know how much he enjoyed this, how much the man meant to him, how he could do anything at all and Mycroft would happily take it.

‘Please…please Captain. _Own_ me,’

A small half smile cured the doctor’s lips even as those beautiful blue eyes widened. Mycroft had done something unexpected and John clearly liked it. The offer was clearly something he didn’t think he would get so soon. The level of trust placing in him…

Running strong fingers through his hair Mycroft tried to curl around that hand that was almost lovingly caressing him cheek. John’s voice was a little softer but no less demanding and eager.

‘On your knees then. Turn around and put your face on the floor. I want that pretty pink-spanked backside high in the air beckoning me in.’

Mycroft did as he was told, almost physically shaking in desire. Sliding off his loosened boxers and trousers, he didn’t have the patience to unbutton his shirt so simply tugged it up over his stomach as he got to all fours and reluctantly turned away for the delicious sight of a fully uniformed Captain Watson, cock standing proudly from his undone fly. 

Bending at the arms Mycroft turned his head so that his cheek rested on the cool Baker Street living room floor. God help them if Sherlock or Mrs Hudson walked in at any moment. Come to think on it, he wasn’t sure if he gave a fuck. They could sit and watch for all he cared while the good doctor ravished his arse in any which way he wanted.

Mycroft felt vulnerable and exposed like this. His still stinging backside was receiving a lovely cool breeze stuck up in the air and his own straining cock was firm but hanging between his legs begging for release. But he had been begging for the last hour or so, perhaps now he would be allowed his fun.

The anticipation was killing him, every sound magnified, every rustle of fabric a tease. He nearly jumped and yelped as he felt the first warm touch of John’s hand ran across his bare arse. He couldn’t control his movement, body wiggling to get better contact. It only served him another hearty whack setting a fresh singing pain through the already abused flesh.

‘Ah ah. No moving yet.’

Mycroft whined in frustration but it was soon replaced with a sharp gasp as he felt cool wet fingers caress the crack of his backside. Using one hand to pull his cheeks apart, John was methodically massaging his perineum in small confident circles.

Muscles tensed all on their own as fingers rode higher, Mycroft could feel his toes curling involuntarily. Before he could do anything the tip of what he believed to be the doctor’s index finger was gently massaging the tight ring of muscle at his entrance.

He heard him spit softly; Oh lord he hadn’t been kidding, John was using his own saliva to wet the area and Mycroft eagerly pushed backwards. The teasing fingers were wonderful and he wanted nothing more than them sinking into his body. However another sharp whack across the backside sent him reeling forwards.

The Captain’s voice was low and menacing. ‘No no pet. I’m not stretching you out. The first thing you are getting in that hot little body of yours is my cock. I want it to spread you open, I want to feel that tight arse of yours really grip my cock.’

Mycroft whimpered. Yes. Yes he wanted that. John didn’t even need to ask. He could take him. He was his. But it had to be soon. Now! Right this minute!

Kneeling behind his prone body, Mycroft could feel the warmth and weight of the other man press against him. The velvety soft tip of his cock pushed against his anus and he instinctively clenched but with a firm hold on his hips, John made sure the wet head quickly sunk into his body.

Groaning and squirming, Mycroft pushed backwards impatiently, the initial uncomfortable pain lessening as John slowly slid himself in. It was tight, oh god, so tight. He could feel every glorious inch of him gently sinking in until he stopped with hips resting against his backside.

A few experimental bucks of his hips had Mycroft writhing around his new master. The feeling was exquisite. The saliva had done enough to make it not entirely unpleasant but it would still be rough. The older Holmes widened his hips, legs sliding on the polished wooden floor for a better, more pleasurable angle as the doctor set his pace. Not going easy on him and taking exactly what he demanded. With long sure strokes and hands guiding his hips, nearly withdrawing completely before plunging back in to the hilt. Mycroft’s body was rocking violently with every thrust. His hands scrambled against the slippery wooden floor but it was no good, there was nothing to hold onto. He was unlikely conveying through his garbled moaning that he wanted it faster, harder, he was loving every fucking minute of it and never wanted his Captain Watson to stop.

His head was hazy, lost in the delicious sensations of his lower body as his master rode him and claimed him and done exactly what Mycroft had craved him to do since the moment he met him in the abandoned building nearly a year ago.

With effortless ease the firm grip on his hips rolled them and Mycroft found himself staring up at the ceiling of Baker Street flat on his back on the cold wooden floor. John’s body covered his, settling between parted thighs.

Grabbing two handfuls of white cotton shirt, John yanked hard. Mycroft was in shock as he heard his buttons pop and scatter across the floor but any though to the stated of his now ruined clothing was soon lost as the comforting weight on the other man settled on top of him. The polished uniform buttons were digging into soft bare flesh of his stomach and chest but Mycroft didn’t mind as warm lips stared at his navel and trailed a fiery line of pleasure across his stomach, chest and sternum. _God_ that man could kiss. That mouth should be illegal. Mycroft could only hope at some point he could get treated to that filthy mouth on his own cock.

By the time the doctor reached his lips the kiss was demanding and possessive and Mycroft moaned under him, writhing and silently begging for more.

With a thrust of his hips John was once again comfortably imbedded in the Government official’s body and he compliantly hissed out his excitement.

‘Do you have any idea how fucking _gorgeous_ you are?’

John’s breath was hot and harsh in his ear as his hips thrust firmly. Mycroft wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, clinging to him wanting to be impossibly close.

‘So stiff and formal and proper, looking good in those tailored fitting suits pretending to be the Iceman. When really, deep down you are a filthy little cock whore aren’t you Mycroft?’

‘Yes, yes Captain.’

The language, the soldier, the strict authoritarian persona along with the roughness of John claiming his body…Mycroft didn’t know he could have possibly been turned on anymore. But he continued praising him, kissing him, obscenities whispered in his ear as he pistoned in and out of his body. The rough woollen uniform doing a lovely job of rubbing back and forth across his cock and balls and Mycroft was in blissful heaven.

‘You are beautiful, and you are mine. You hear? You belong to _me_ now.’

Mycroft so did want to belong. He would happily be John’s. He pulled his knees up higher allowing the man to get even closer, he buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhales the musky male smell that was John.

The loss of warmth was a shock as the comforting weight of the soldiers body suddenly left him. Thankfully, he didn’t go far as the doctor settled for kneeling between Mycroft’s parted legs, pulling his hips up from the floor in level with his own. His back arched and eyes fluttered as the soldier sank into him again in one fluid movement, using hands on his hips to roughly pull his body towards him.

The continuous thrust of his hips was caressing every muscle, every inch inside him and Mycroft could feel a low pressure building deep in his groin. He was so close. Sliding his own hand down his body, he soon encased his own cock standing proudly between the two of them. He was about to pleasure himself but his hand was quickly swatted out of the way. Mycroft was not disappointed however, his hand was replaced by John’s, a stern look in his eye.

‘This is mine. You hear me.’

The firm squeeze around his shaft sent Mycroft writhing against the floor in pleasure.

‘Oh god. Yes. It’s yours.’

Another firm squeeze, ‘And you are mine.’

‘And I am yours too.’

‘That’s _Captain_ Watson to you.’

‘ _My_ Captain.’

As John began pumping his cock in time with his thrusts in his arse it sent Mycroft spiralling overboard into a blissful state where nothing mattered except John and him and pleasure and fucking.

‘You have been a good boy Mycroft. Very good. You can come now. It’s ok.’

No sooner were the words out those wonderful lips than Mycroft thought his whole body had exploded. Muscles locked and quivered all on their own and his orgasm waved through the lover half of his body with abandon.

He came, crying out the other man’s name, splattering both John’s hand and his own stomach with warm, white sticky fluid. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had blacked out, or went blind. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t focus on anything but the rippling pleasure through his cock and backside. His pleasure must have tightened his muscles as he heard a soft ‘Oh fucking hell Mycroft’ as he constricted almost painful around the other man’s cock.

He was far too over stimulated; Mycroft had to swat away the soldiers hand still currently wrapped around his softening cock. He couldn’t handle any more sensation. Hips sinking back against the floor, Mycroft felt almost felt numb as John braced his hands either side of his head and finished with about another thirty seconds of frantic thrusting, desperately looking for his own release.

The government official couldn’t even move to help. Exhausted and sore, he felt totally boneless and drained but in an extremely content and happy way.

With a soft grunt the doctor stopped moving and stilled above him before collapsing onto Mycroft chest with a satisfied sigh and nuzzling into his neck.

 

 

He wasn’t sure how long they lay wrapped in each other, enjoying the feel of the doctors firm weight on top of him, legs intertwined, arms locked and both still breathing heavily. Mycroft could feel the slow leak of cum from himself pooling on the floor between them.

Soft gentle kisses ghosted across his collarbone and neck before reaching his lips. 

‘You were wonderful, you know that.’

Mycroft gave a lazy smile, still far too happy and in blissful afterglow to be thinking clearly. _He_ had been wonderful? Did this man really not know how utterly perfect he was? God the most wonderful man in the room was John as far as Mycroft was considered.

After a few moments, hours, days…he wasn’t quite sure, the weight of Captain Watson eventually left him as he climbed to his feet resulting in much shivering on the cold floor for Mycroft. As he stood, old bones protested their excessive use as the older Holmes tried to straighten himself out.

Glancing over at the soldier it was apparent that they had failed in keeping his uniform tidy, with noticeable obvious white staining across the jacket and trousers from where he had been rubbing against Mycroft cum covered torso.

He smirked as John looked down at himself and sighed.

‘Well I did say you would be cleaning this up but I think your punishment of trying to get home like that is going to be more amusing and gratifying.’

He raised a challenging blonde eyebrow. Uncomprehending, Mycroft glanced down at his own appearance as he pulled on his trousers and boxers, fastening them into place. His shirt. _Shit._ John had ripped it open and with no buttons he would never get it fastened. 

Tugging on his waistcoat and suit jacket over the ruined shirt only made the doctor’s smile even wider... none of Sherlock’s shirts would fit him; he couldn’t even borrow one from Baker Street. Oh bloody _hell._

John was gloating at him as Mycroft scowled. It wasn’t funny. He had important meetings to go to. The British Empire to save. He couldn’t be seen leaving a dingy London flat looking thoroughly shagged senseless.

‘You could always call Anthea. I’m sure she will bring you a fresh shirt. But then you get to explain to her what you need the shirt for and why your buttons are currently scattered all over my floor.’

The government official grimaced at the thought. He supposed after this little set up that his PA already knew…but there was still the level of embarrassment of actually confirming it to her. It wasn’t really in her job description to make her clean up after his sordid affairs.

‘Mycroft Holmes doing the walk of shame, looking rumpled and dishevelled and definitely like you have been used as someone’s fuck toy. You have any idea how long I have waited to see you like that?’

He didn’t really have a reply for that as John swaggered over, still in stained uniform and pulled him down by the lapels of his jacket for a possessive kiss.

‘You look totally fuckable like that. And what do you know. We have.’

He smiled, genuinely, and Mycroft couldn’t help but grin back. All that want. All that fantasising. And now he had the most exciting afternoon of his life with his brother’s ex-army flatmate. He wanted it again and hoped that this wasn’t a onetime bit of fun for the doctor.

Reaching into his trouser pocked, the soldier came away with a small black cloth bag. Handing it to Mycroft, he inspected it slightly puzzled, before emptying the contents into his palm.

A fresh, sturdy leather collar was now coiled in his hand. He held his breath. He hadn’t been expecting this. So soon. The uniform...he thought that might just be for this afternoon, for a bit of fun after Anthea mentioning it.

Mycroft toyed with the shiny metal hook at the front; a small flat dog tag was attached. He turned it over to read the inscription:

**Property of Captain John H. Watson**

‘I will be back from Beachley in three days.’

Mycroft nodded, excitement welling up inside of him again. He wasn’t sure he could wait three days. Three days was an eternity! Now that he had had him, how could he live without John for that long?!

With a final lingering kiss, that Mycroft was incredibly reluctant to break, John pulled away, proclaiming that he now had to change to meet with the boys and that Mycroft could expect punishment for that on his return.

He couldn’t wait.


End file.
